I opened the front door and peered inside. I heard voices in the kitchen, belonging to my parents. I slipped in, closing the door behind me and trying to tiptoe to the stairs. I made it halfway up the stairs, thinking I was safe, until I heard my father's booming voice. "Where have you been?"
I turned to face him, still in his business suit. "I hung out with Keith after school. He was helping me study."
"Like hell, he quit! What would he know?!" Dad raised his voice.
"At least he bothers to help me, I never get help from you," I was surprised at my own words. I never said anything like that, usually I let him walk over me.
"What was that?"
I felt tears well up in my eyes. No, Kenleigh, you cant cry in front of him!
"Go up to your room and don't come down until dinner!" Dad ordered and walked back to the kitchen. I ran up the stairs and went to the bathroom first. I locked the door and sat down next to the bathtub, crying. This is how it was most days. Dad's words really hurt me, and he criticized and put me down a lot. He said he was preparing me for life, but I think he just thinks I'm a failure and have no reason to live. I try to talk to him, I try to say what's on my mind, but he will just send me to my room. I've learned early that no one particularly cares for what I have to say. So mostly what I think is kept to myself.
I wiped my face, then washed my hands before going to my room. I gasped at the sight of my room. My records, my entire collection, lay in broken pieces on my bedroom floor. The .45s, the full albums, even the album covers, destroyed. My dad hated music, especially rock n' roll, but how could he do this? How could he do this to me?!
I sniffed back tears of anger as I stepped around the broken pieces, grabbing a few clothes from my dresser. There was no way I could stay here tonight.
I put my backpack on and crept downstairs, hearing nothing but silence. Dad was probably in his study, working on his sales stuff, and mom was in the kitchen. I snuck out the house and bolted down the street to Keith's house.
He was only a quarter of a mile away, but I ran as fast as I could and was winded by the time I got to the one-story house he shared with his parents. I took a moment to catch my breath and wipe my face with my school shirt before going around to the back of the house. I found Keith's window and peered inside his room. He was sitting at his cluttered desk, his back to me, tapping a beat with a pencil. I tapped on the window, and Keith turned around and smiled at me. He got up and unlocked the window.
"I'd like a bacon cheeseburger with mayo, a large fry and soda, please," I said with my hand cupped over my mouth, making it sound like I was ordering at a McDonalds window.
Keith grinned and helped me into his room, I took off my coat and threw it on the floor with my backpack before crashing on Keith's unmade bed.
"So, what brings you to my humble abode, my dear?" Keith said, making his voice deeper.
I laughed. "Just the usual... my dad went crazy again, so I don't want to stay there tonight."
"What happened?"
I sigh. "He broke my records. All of them, even ripped the albums apart."
"Why the hell did he do that?" Keith said, raising his voice a bit.
"You know how he is--"
"That's just not right! I outta go over there--"
I stopped Keith by putting a hand on his forearm. "Keith, lets not."
"Kenleigh, I'm tired of seeing him put you down and hurt you all the time and I can't do anything about it." Keith's eyes softened. When I said he was my bodyguard, I wasn't kidding.
"He's twice your size, and if you do anything, he'll forbid me to see you."
"I don't care, I just hate when he pulls shit like that." Keith stood up and went through his own record collection.
"Are your parents home?" I ask after a moment of silence.
"No, they went out to dinner."
"Then Ill make us something."